


Ephemeral Moments

by datobamu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: But like mostly Eruri, Français | French, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Messy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poetry, references to other fandoms - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-02 12:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19198927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datobamu/pseuds/datobamu
Summary: Moments that are ours only, where we find each other's eyes and try not to let go.Collection of poems, short stories, and anything I feel like writing, really. For now mostly on Erwin and Levi, but who knows what will happen next ? Title chosen because you will not need a long time to read those...All (or most, or some) stories will be posted with their French original, because these are usually written in the heat of the moment, and French is my native language, so yeah... By the way, please excuse any translation or writing mistake in English as it is not my native language.





	1. When Blue meets Grey

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how hard translating this was, I'm still disappointed.  
> Oh my, guess who initially didn't tag this accurately ! Yes, this was intended to be a cross-fic kinda thing with Erwin and Levi and their voice actors and this must have been so confusing to read without knowing that and argh I'm sorry for the people who read this before I changed it. I'm so absentminded...

Blue. Grey. Colors of sky.

Colors of life, of liberty.

Color of summer, color of winter

Contrasting and complementary.

Colors of love, colors of death.

Brown of autumn, color of honey.

Laughing eyes, his smile cheeky.

Color of you, color of me

Color of them, the taste like coffee

Color of us, color of hope.

Color of blond, color of black

Color of tea, color of sea

Color of the days they couldn't live

But color of love in their hearts instilled.

All the colors of the rainbow

When the sun meets the rain

And blue brings grey into harmony.

 

***

 

Bleu. Gris. Couleurs de ciel.

Couleurs de vie, de liberté.

Couleur d'été, couleur d'hiver

Contrastées et complémentaires.

Couleur d'amour, couleur de mort.

Marron d'automne, couleur de miel.

Yeux riants, sourire espiègle.

Couleur de toi, de moi, de lui

Couleur d'eux, couleur amère

Couleur de nous, couleur d'espoir.

Couleur de blond, couleur de noir

Couleur de thé, couleur de mer

Couleur des jours qu'ils n'ont pu vivre

Mais couleur des hommes qu'ils inspirent.

Toutes les couleurs de l'arc-en-ciel

Quand le soleil rencontre la pluie

Et que le bleu rencontre le gris.


	2. The bedroom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, how did people think about leaving kudos on the first chapter that wasn't even tagged correctly ? I'm genuinely curious, but I can't ask...well.  
> This is a quick thing I wrote about how maybe Erwin and Levi shared a room and feels and...yeah.  
> In French, 'supporter' means to put up with someone and I know I'm super clumsy but that would be great if you would support me both the French and the English way !

The bedroom.

The place where we embrace. The place where we kiss. The place where we make love. The place where we confess our love. The place where we fall asleep, next to each other, together. The place that is ours only. The place where we find each other back.

The bedroom feels colder, without you. It is no longer the bedroom, not our bedroom. It is no more than the ghost of that room, of that place. I lie down, and you are not here. You are not here anymore. You will not be here anymore. I am alone.

The bedroom does not exist anymore.

In the bed, I don't find you back.

 

***

 

La chambre.

L'endroit où nous nous enlaçons. L'endroit où nous nous embrassons. L'endroit où nous faisons l'amour. L'endroit où nous nous déclarons notre amour. L'endroit où nous nous endormons, l'un à côté de l'autre, ensemble. L'endroit qui n'appartient qu'à nous. L'endroit où nous nous retrouvons.

La chambre semble froide, sans toi. Ce n'est plus la chambre, plus notre chambre. Ce n'est qu'un fantôme de cette pièce, de cet endroit. Je m'allonge, et tu n'es pas là. Tu n'es plus là. Tu ne seras plus là. Je suis seul.

La chambre n'est plus.

Dans le lit, je ne te retrouve pas.


	3. Silent Night

Lay down on paper.

Lay down on paper.

Bam !

He did want to lay down, now. On paper, or anywhere. He was dead tired.

He rubbed his aching skull.

Something rubbed against him, soft like a feather, moving the ink in the same move.

Did a spirit want to help him write his reports ?

\- Drop that and go to bed.

It was an angel, he knew it for sure. An angel had come.

The angel moved his chair to get him to move. He didn't, and held a hand to the angel.

His fingers touched the angel's cheek. It seemed so...real. Yet, his skin had this color, this surreal halo. He didn't know what to think anymore.

The angel sighed loudly.

\- Seriously, you're not in a fit state to work anymore ! Don't you dare work yourself to death !

He stroked the angel's cheek, the latter putting a hand on his.

It seems to him that his fingers were being stroked.

Ah, it was an angel indeed !

The angel tugged his hand, forcing him to stand up. He furrowed his brows.

Why did the angel remove his hand from his cheek ? Did he not want to be stroked ?

The angel stroked one of his eyebrows.

\- And stop frowning, it doesn't suit you.

He let himself be tugged by the angel, without a word.

The angel led him to his bed, and he slipped under the covers willingly.

The angel stroked his hand again. Was it a smile tugging the corners of his lips ?

He fell asleep gently, lulled by the strokes on his hand, feeling smiling lips against his forehead.

\- Goodnight, Erwin.

 

***

 

Coucher sur le papier.

Coucher sur le papier.

Bam !

Il avait bien envie de se coucher, maintenant. Sur le papier, ou ailleurs. Il tombait de fatigue.

Il frotta sa tête endolorie.

Quelque chose frotta contre lui, comme une plume.

Un esprit voudrait l'aider à écrire ses rapports ?

\- Lâche ça et va te coucher.

C'était un ange, il en était sûr. Un ange était venu.

L'ange déplaça sa chaise pour le forcer à en sortir. Il ne bougea pas, et tendit sa main vers l'ange.

Ses doigts touchèrent sa joue. Cela semblait si...réel. Pourtant, la peau de l'ange avait cette couleur, ce halo irréel. Il ne savait plus quoi penser.

L'ange soupira bruyamment.

\- Sérieusement, t'es plus en état de travailler ! Ne te tue pas à la tâche !

Il caressa la joue de l'ange, qui mit sa main sur la sienne.

Il lui sembla sentir une caresse le long de ses doigts.

Ah, c'était bien un ange !

L'ange tira sa main, le forçant à se lever. Il fronça les sourcils.

Pourquoi avait-il enlevé sa main de sa joue ? Ne voulait-il pas être caressé ?

L'ange caressa un de ses sourcils.

\- Et arrête de grimacer, ça te va pas.

Il se laissa tirer par l'ange, sans un mot.

L'ange l'emmena vers son lit, et il se glissa sous la couette volontiers.

L'ange lui caressa la main à nouveau. Était-ce un sourire qu'il voyait naître sur ses lèvres ?

Il s'endormit doucement, bercé par les caresses de l'ange sur sa main, sentant ses lèvres souriantes se poser sur son front.

\- Bonne nuit, Erwin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the story behind this title is that Silent Night (as in the Christmas carol) is translated in French as soft night or gentle night, and I think it's interesting.  
> So, as usual, this is badly translated (as you can see if any of you speaks French), and minor changes were made to accommodate the story to English.  
> It's also cross posted on tumblr, I'm datobamu, and...yeah.  
> Alternative title would be 'Fluff and Innuendoes', but I'm too into weird titles to actually use it.


	4. Your story

Meeting him.

There are meetings that change your vision of the world, aren't there ?

Meetings that you seemed to be waiting for since forever, that have a powerful impact on your life, that give you a purpose, having expectations to meet, but don't you meet them of your free will ?

That was that kind of meeting, when your eyes met.

Avez-vous su, dès cet instant, que cette rencontre allait bouleverser vos vies ?  
Did you already know, at that time, that this meeting would change your life ?

Were you thinking, deep down, that this meeting was destiny ? Was it a sudden realization, like the strike of lightning - French people do use the word to evoke love at first sight.

So was it love at first sight ? Then again, does it matter ? What place did love hold in this world ?

But did you love each other ? Love is far more complex than love at first sight, far more complex than a meeting ; anyway, what place does destiny hold in love ?

A very small one. Or a very big one. But destiny does not last, destiny is merely the beginning, merely the meeting ; love is the following of the story, when destiny has no value anymore, when the meeting is nothing but a point.

Maybe, after all, meetings are due to destiny. But the story is written by men.

If the meeting is but a point, love is a myriad of points, of spent moments, insignificant, for the most of them, but that, gathered, form a story.

And all of that, when you met, could destiny imagine it ?

 

***

 

Le rencontrer.

Il est de ces rencontres qui changent votre vision du monde, n'est-ce pas ?

Des rencontres que vous semblez attendre depuis toujours, qui ont un impact puissant sur votre vie, qui vous donnent un but, un idéal à atteindre, des contraintes à satisfaire, mais ne les satisfaites-vous pas de votre plein gré ?

Ce fut ce genre de rencontre, quand vos yeux se croisèrent.

Avez-vous su, dès cet instant, que cette rencontre allait bouleverser vos vies ?

Pensiez-vous, au fond de vous, que cette rencontre était le fruit du destin ? Fut-ce une découverte soudaine, foudroyante - ne parle-t-on pas de coup de foudre lors d'une rencontre amoureuse ?

Était-ce une rencontre amoureuse ? Et après tout, qu'importe ! Quelle place l'amour avait-il dans ce monde ?

Mais vous êtes-vous aimés ? L'amour est bien plus complexe qu'un coup de foudre, bien plus complexe qu'une rencontre, enfin, quelle place le destin tient-il dans l'amour ?

Une toute petite. Ou bien une très grande. Mais le destin ne dure pas, le destin n'est que le début, que la rencontre ; l'amour est la suite de l'histoire, quand le destin n'est plus rien, quand la rencontre n'est qu'un point.

Peut-être, après tout, que les rencontres sont dues au destin. Mais l'histoire, ce sont les hommes qui l'écrivent.

Si la rencontre n'est qu'un point, l'amour est une multitude de points, d'instants passés, insignifiants, souvent, mais qui, rassemblés, forment une histoire.

Et tout cela, à votre rencontre, le destin aurait-il pu l'imaginer ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's frustrating to realize how much is lost in translation when I translate my works into English. But oh well.


End file.
